Burning Red
by kkshootingstar
Summary: He was just regular Nicholas St. North, Russian man who made and sold little toys in his small shop. The day Jesus was born was the day twenty years later that his wife gave birth to their daughter. When she was eighteen the father became the Guardian of Wonder, but she was stolen from him. I was kept for 1,500 years, and I remember nothing. But I need help and answers now.
1. Summary

Christmas was designated by Santa Claus-Father Christmas-St. Nick-whatever you call him. He was a full grown man at that time, just regular Nicholas St. North, Russian man who made and sold little toys in his small shop. The day Jesus was born was the day twenty years later that his wife gave birth to their daughter. When she was still a baby the mother died and the father became the Guardian of Wonder. He moved to the North Pole, built up a huge, magical shop full of elves and yetis and toys, and became Santa Claus. He raised a daughter for the next 18 years, and then she was tricked and stolen from him. I was trapped for 1,500 years, 4 months, and 23 days. It's been 500 years since I escaped. I can't remember my home, or even my parents. All I have are eight words swirling in the back of my throat, and I'm not even sure if they're real. But I need someone to protect me now, because I'm scared and alone, so I decided to follow the children.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: My New Car**

Rudii's POV~

I slammed my foot down on the gas of the car, hard, and shoved the rush of excitement down as it lurched forward down the street. I love driving fast cars, I love cars in general, but the cops are a bit too close for comfort. As I twisted my sleek new ride-no, I don't know who the owners are-through the streets and allies of some city in America, I smirked at how silly the whole thing was. First off, there was no way even in their dreams those stupid cops were going to catch up to me in their obnoxious cruiser. I was in a freaking convertible Jaguar F-Type, this was the baby's first year out, and I was an excellent driver. The silly boys would go home and dream about this. I felt the Jaguar's V6 engine purr, agreeing with me that the cops stood no chance. I glanced in the rearview window and didn't even see them anymore.

Second reason, I really wasn't high priority for them. I kept a low profile, and I've never endangered anyone's-bad gang member's or normal civilian's-life. I was just a nuisance, really. Oh, wait. I'd just stolen a Jaguar F-Type…ok, maybe now I'm a little higher on the list. I shrugged. I did the person-and car company-a favor by showing them just how easy it is to steal and how dumb it is to leave it top-down on the street-with the keys in the freaking glove compartment. I mean really, they asked for it.

Not even hearing sirens anymore, I got onto the freeway and just drove, enjoying the feeling of the car's speed. I didn't have anywhere to go, and I had everything I owned in my backpack, so I just drove down Interstate-whatever until it started getting late and I got tired.

I exited and ended up in the middle of nowhere. That was good and bad. Good, because it meant no one likely heard if the police sent out a message about me. Not that they would bother anyway, I've been at this for years and am very good at it. Plus, like I said, I was just a nuisance: I wasn't a threat, so usually they didn't spend time on me. And this town was off the radar, and I liked off the radar. Usually I liked to be in a city, but whatever. Although, this town was bad because it also meant I would draw a lot of attention in my snazzy ride.

I parked in front of a motel and stepped out, already feeling the gazes of the people milling around in the bar across the street burn into me and the Jaguar. I chuckled internally when no one approached, and thanked the gods that I had acquired a rather intimidating outfit over the years. No skulls and spikes, I was more of the silent-but-deadly kind. I had my scuffed, black leather combat boots that came up to the middle of my calves. I had a small pocket knife stored in the inside of my right one, but they didn't know that. Dirty black jeans hugged my legs and hips, my iPod in the back pocket. I didn't have a cell phone-I didn't need one, who the hell would I call? I had a fitted, long-sleeved, black shirt with an attached hood on, and under that I had a white tank top. Over them both was my trusty black leather jacket I'd had for hundreds of years-literally. It was warm but not heavy, weather-proof, had outside and inside pockets, and fit me so perfectly I could run without feeling resistance. It had been long, but I'd cut it so it now came just above the middle of my thighs. Yeah, I probably wasn't Miss Fashionista, but it sent the right message: go away, I'm not interested, I can and will kick your ass. It also did blend into cities very well.

The Jaguar, on the other hand, screamed its presence. It was bright, shiny red. But I loved it already anyway. Grabbing my backpack, I put the hood up and locked the car, putting the keys into one of my jacket's inside pockets. I also did a handy little trick on the doors and hood that I'd learned: I kicked them. Hard. So hard, that it dented in a way one of my buddies in an old car racing gang had showed me: it made the space where cars could be illegally unlocked dent so that the bars didn't catch right. Don't ask me the specifics, I didn't really understand them. I hate physics and all that science-y stuff. I did the same to the hood so it wouldn't snap open and someone couldn't wire it.

Ignoring the stares, I went in and got a room, paid for it-yes, I do have real money, borrowed or stolen it doesn't matter because it's mine now-in cash, and went up to it without food. This place was cheap for rooms, but the meal prices made up for that and I really didn't want to spend more than I had to. I kept in shape from all the running, climbing, and gymnastics I did as my regular life, I could eat a cheap fast food burger. I showered quickly then climbed into the bed in my tank top and underwear. I closed my eyes, but of course I didn't fall asleep immediately. Nope, every night, my brain just would never shut up.

The two things I'm best known for are car racing and graffiti. And for the graffiti, trust me, you have to get into some weird positions and develop strange methods to climb onto a lot of structures. And my graffiti is not the trashy just-my-name-in-bubble-letters crap. My graffiti is good. I spend time on it. That's the only thing I spend a lot of money for, paints. I paint massive murals of anything in my head: forests, snow scenes, lakes, the dreams I have that feel more familiar than others, some cities or places I've been. I never do people, and I never sign them. That would just be dumb, then people could chase me around. The painting keeps me grounded. Also, it's extremely important that they get on the news, so I work hard to make them special and sometimes kick-start a security alarm nearby so it gets noticed. I have to, I can't stop hoping.

You should know that I'm not some big tough criminal with muscle and scars and tattoos everywhere. First of all, because I'm a girl. In case the dress sense didn't tip it off. I have tattoos, but I didn't get them by choice. They're really more like scars. I have muscle, hell yeah, but I'm not some freaky body builder. I'm toned, you know? And I have scars, of course. I've fallen from structures while painting, gotten in some car crashes (thankfully, I had some good buds that got me to and out of the hospital), and I am quite the seasoned street fighter. But no big, ugly scar across the face with a dramatic backstory kind of thing.

And I don't feel like thinking anymore. You don't tell your life story in one night, or a few minutes. And I don't want to go into it anyway.

I focused on my breathing, and finally began to feel sleep creep up on me. I rolled onto my stomach and curled up, protecting myself instinctually in such a foreign-granted, very comfortable-place. I didn't dream, or if I did, I don't care enough to remember.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two: I'll Freeze Your Doors if You Call it Vandalism**

Jack's POV~

Two years after defeating Pitch, I sat in the lounge in North's workshop, sprawled across the sofa and flipping through the channels. I had the place to myself, since the Guardians were out doing their stuff. And thank God for that. Tooth always wanted to watch dumb girly flicks, North liked to watch things in Russian, and Bunny liked the nature channel. Or anything Australian. Sandy didn't really care.

Humming in content, I flipped rapidly through the channels when something finally caught my eye. It was the news, boring, but there was a picture of a mural on the inside of a train station.

"…this is yet another act of vandalism, as graffiti 'artists' have no respect for public…" what?! Vandalism? No respect? This was art. And it was doing that dingy station a favor. The mural really was incredible, it looked almost 3-D. I personally thought it was great, because it was of a forest in the middle of winter. It looked similar to Burgess actually, but there was no pond. Just what looked like miles and miles of forest, but the detail and coloring was incredible.

North boomed in, shaking me out of the trance. The picture was still on screen when he glanced at it, then came to probably ask why I wasn't out having my winter fun-or 'annoying games'. Such a parent sometimes, yeesh. And I love fun, but occasionally I want to just lie on a couch too.

"Where is that?" North asked tightly, Russian accent thick. Ok, that wasn't usual.

"New York, somewhere in the state. It's in America," I said, arching a white eyebrow. He leaned forward, bracing his hands on the back of the sofa near my head. I leaned forward a bit, he had big hands and I like my head and awesome hair. North stared at it for a moment, then looked down at me sharply. Here we go.

"Why you watching this?" he sounded a bit gruffer than usual. I rolled my eyes.

"Because all the snow is made and I just want to take an hour or two of a break. Yes, I'm admitting fun gets tiring, but only—"

"No, why you watch this? News, it's boring," he cut me off quickly.

"Oh. Uh, yeah, but the picture was interesting. That's some crazy street art, and they're calling it vandalism! I think I'll go freeze that guy's doors or something, watch him skid around," I snickered to myself. Stupid adult man putting down anything that wasn't old and grey and boring like him.

"Watch something else," North grunted, walking back out of the room. Ok, that was weird. I shrugged and resumed flipping through the channels since the news had moved on to something else.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Don't Cheat Me on My Drinks**

Rudii's POV~

I woke up with the sun, as usual. I can never sleep for more than a few hours. I'm just used to running all the time. I love that. I jumped out of bed and threw my clothes on, brushing my hair and teeth and slipping quietly out of the motel. I scanned through a newspaper on the way out and didn't even see a word about me. The Jaguar-my car, no one has claimed it-was sitting safely in the driveway, not even a scratch on it. I smirked, proud of myself for being able to send the message to stay the hell away. I hopped in and took a breath, still not over the excitement and pride that I'd gotten it. Those rich people had probably bought another one anyway. I peeled out of the driveway, not caring if the tires screeched, and sped back onto the highway.

I drove for four hours, not even knowing where I was going, before the fuel light turned on.

"Damn, really?" I whined, "c'mon." I hate getting gas, it's so expensive. I turned off to a gas station and groaned at the prices. Four bucks per gallon, my ass! Thank the gods I had a talent for pickpocketing, and people in cities never cared anyway. I grinned at the memory of Danny, one of the first kind car gang members I'd ever met and the one who taught me to race, teaching me to pickpocket. I'd spent the most time with his gang than I ever had with anyone, so he taught me the most. I also picked up on his morals, which is probably why I'm not some crack-head or prostitute right now. I have a moral compass. Hence, I've never killed anyone or even carry a gun or hurt a child. That last one is also due to me being a childhood legend's daughter-I think.

Merging back onto the road with an almost full tank, my mind wandered to him. I don't remember anything about my life before I was kidnapped. Just a phrase in my mind, one simple, eight-word phrase. I don't even know if it's real, but it's all I have. Before I turned 18, my life is just black. So I stick to that phrase, and try to learn through the most trusted, honest source of intel in the world: kids. I like to hang around children and hear what they say, and I'd heard names like Tooth Fairy and Easter Bunny. Those were common knowledge. I'd occasionally heard Sandman, but in some stories he was a bit of a bad guy. I'd never met the guy, so I just leave the decision-making to them.

I drove and drove until I hit another city, I think somewhere on the east coast because it's February and I'm freaking cold. And I know it doesn't get this cold in the western states-I've been through those. Actually, I recognize this place, but not very well. Driving through alleys, I get out of the center of the city where the highway had let out until I'm still deep in, but in more gritty neighborhoods. I love every part of the cities because there was so much going on and I can just love myself in them. But in a car like this, and a city like this full of tourists and police that actually took their jobs seriously, I had to keep a lower profile. And no one would a hide a person better than the areas of the city the tourists didn't want to see, the areas the police were too scared to bother with.

I parked on the street and checked the locks again, making sure they were as secure as I could make them. Then I walked around the block and found a little bar nestled on the corner. It looked old, but not run-down or shady, so I assumed it wasn't a drug house or anything. And I could use a drink. There was frost on the doorstep, but it was February so that was normal. It seemed prettier though, and I actually paused for a second to look at it. It wasn't just a blanket of frost, it was like little patterns of snowflakes. That was probably just the part of my brain that is an artist.

Inside, I took a seat on one of the stools and shrugged out of my jacket and long-sleeved shirt, leaving myself in just my tank top, resting my bare elbows against the bar top. The place was pretty cozy actually, with quite ambiance music and lighting dim enough to relax in but not so dark that I couldn't see. There were only seven other people, as I expected since this morning's newspaper had said Tuesday and the clock on the wall said 2:53PM. The bartender, a cute blonde girl who looked way too young and sweet to be working in a bar in a poor neighborhood stepped in front of me.

"You old enough to be here?" she asked, smirking and one eyebrow raised. I smirked, as if she cared.

"Are you?" I countered. Seriously though, she looked too nice and too young to make drinks and serve guys of _all_ ages. Her face was rounder and she had slightly chubby cheeks and full lips, looking like an innocent little doll. Her dirty blonde hair was in curls to top it off. She sighed and looked at me, a little guiltily. I nodded and pulled out my fake ID. She barely glanced at it with grey-blue eyes before handing it back.

"Just so I can't say I didn't," she said as she took a couple steps back to the wall of bottles. "Whatcha want?" she called.

"Two things. First," I pulled out the blood-red metal flask Michelle-a friend from another car gang-gave me and held it out, "fill this with a vodka tonic." The girl nodded and took it. "Then, get me a Black Russian."

The girl glanced at me over her shoulder with an eyebrow raised. "That's pretty strong, you sure you can handle it?"

I laughed. "I can handle it, I promise," I winked. She handed me back the flask and I tucked it into the inside pocket at my hip, hearing the satisfying slosh of liquid against the smooth walls.

"Are you Russian? I thought I heard an accent," she mentioned as she mixed my drink.

"Hey, don't cheat me," I pointed, watching her pour way more coffee liqueur than just two parts. She rolled her eyes and poured in more vodka to balance it. "There we go. And yes, I am. That is a warning not to try to rob me of my vodka," I smirked.

"If you've got an accent, that means you speak it naturally. So what are you doing over here?" she asked conversationally. I bit my lip, it was hard to talk to mortals when you weren't one. And it was even harder to talk about my not-clear-and-most-likely-not-real origins. But hey, I had tons of time to kill and she was nice, so I might as well enjoy it.

"Grew up there. Then been traveling around the world ever since," it was the general truth. I think.

"That sounds so cool. I want to travel, but I don't have the money," she shrugged wistfully. Then snorted. "Plus, I don't even know where I'd go. Or who with. I'd hate to be alone. I'm a people person."

Oh I can tell, I thought. It was charming though. "Nah, I like being alone. No one but yourself to worry about, and you get to decide all the time," I added, trying to make it seem more positive. I really did like being on my own, and I was comfortable and used to that. But it came out sounding bad. She got it anyway.

"I suppose. But I don't even speak the languages, so I'd be confused. You've at least got Russian and English."

"Actually, most people around the world know at least some English. It's become a big language these past few decades," I considered aloud.

"You talk like you've watched it change," she teased. I chuckled with her, but really, I have watched it change actually.

"Watch movies, then you can see it too," I said as an excuse. She handed me my drink and held out her hand.

"Most people call me Ally, by the way," she smiled. I returned it, and shook her hand while taking a sip with my other.

"I'm Rudii, and I am a happy Russian," I grinned, holding up her drink. She'd put in a bit more vodka than she was supposed to. Thank the gods I had a high tolerance and didn't plan on driving my beautiful Jaguar for a few hours.

"Thank you," she curtsied. I sat at the bar with her for the next few hours, talking and having just one more drink. She did most of the talking, which was good since I didn't really know what to say sometimes. I talk to people all the time, but they're usually street people and car racers and graffiti-doers like me. They didn't ask a lot about my past or what I did or why I was so young, they just cared about doing what they did or what I could do for them. I was glad for that, because I like doing that too. I like to just do my thing on my own, be where I want to be.

Anyway. Ally talked about her family, the high school she'd graduated from, the places she dreamed of going and the stuff she wished she could do. I understood all that. It was by pure luck I'd been taken away after I'd learned how to read and all the basic education. Of course, things had changed so much over all this time and I'd managed to pick up quite a few facts and ideas here and there. I knew how to work most technology, could put a car together from scratch thanks to all the racing gangs, knew common stories and facts from just hanging around people and kids, etc. But I understood her: I would never go to college, which in the past hundred years or so had become increasingly popular and even necessary. I choked through her talking about her family and her boyfriend and her normal, home life. I couldn't relate at all. But she talked about them briefly, sensing my discontent, and she didn't even ask me why. This girl was really freaking smart. Not only that, but she seemed open, kind-hearted. Out of place in a bar on the outskirts of the city.

I was laughing at her animated description about some TV show she loved, something about mothers and a guy who always wore a suit and said 'legendary', when her brown eyes rolled back in her head and she passed out. So did everyone else's-now four people-in the bar. What the hell? I shrieked in surprise, then jumped over the bar (thankfully, my drink was finished so I didn't spill any alcohol when it fell) and felt around her neck, looking for a pulse. Ok, there was one, slow but steady. I held my hand over her mouth, she was breathing in the same way. Her facial expression even looked peaceful, not blank or in pain. It almost looked like she was sleeping.

"Ok, what the hell is going on?" I growled under my breath as I straightened and looked at the other patrons around the bar, all draped over the tables or seats, unconscious.

A few seconds later, Ally's hand shot out and wrapped around my leg, right above my boot. I looked down eagerly, expecting her to be awake, but screamed. Her eyes were open but her body was convulsing and twisting towards me, and her grip was way too tight for the girl.

"Veles," I gasped. Her eyes were completely covered in black sand that was moving, swirling in and around her eyes. I know that black sand way too well….And it was now leaking out of her fingers and around my leg. "No way, buddy," I growled as I pulled my switchblade-courtesy of Ben, my first 'boyfriend'-and slashed, sweeping the side of the blade along my leg so I didn't cut myself. The metal cut through the sand and it recoiled, tendrils sliding off my leg in an audible hiss.

Kneeling over Ally but being careful not to touch her, I carefully began to drag the blade around her eyes, targeting the sand around them. It slid off and pooled on top of the bar. Then, my blood ran cold as it started growing into a mass of shadows. This is familiar, and it brings up memories every time. I didn't let myself sleep enough to dream because of this. My self-defense kicked in and I threw the switchblade straight at it, the blade spinning in the air. It hit the mass with the blade vertical, if it had been a person it would've left a tall and deep, but narrow, gash in their abdomen. But this wasn't a person, not yet, so the mass just vanished.

I snatched the switchblade off of the bar top but kept it in my hand, panting from nerves and shock. Slowly, Ally and the patrons woke up with groans of pain and confusion. They staggered upright or into seats.

"What happened? Why am I on the floor? I've never fainted before," Ally mumbled. So she didn't have any idea…I didn't want to tell her, this definitely fell into the category of impossible-things-about-me-that-mortals-wouldn't-understand. Well, unless they were kids…kids!

"Uh, I think you just fainted. You seem alright though, maybe a bump to the head. I have to get going, let me walk you to your house?" I suggested quickly. She smiled and shook her head, brushing me off.

"No, no, you're right. Probably just a faint or something. I don't even feel dizzy, and I gotta keep this place floating until whenever my brother gets in," she smiled. Then she pouted, and I can honestly say it was adorable. "You really have to go?"

"Yeah, sorry. I really loved talking to you and meeting you." I decided to be honest with her, because she'd been kind and she deserved something. "I'm alone a lot and I like it, but…people like you, who are so nice and open and sweet and easy, are rare. And I missed talking to someone like that," I trailed. I have to go. I really have to go. "Bye," I called as I walked quickly out of the bar, throwing her a real smile.

I ran around the block to my Jaguar just in time to see some kid running from it. I smirked, idiot. All he left was a scratch, I realized when I got to it. I jumped in and gunned it out of the city and onto the highway, pulling a map of America out of my backpack. This time, I knew exactly where to head.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: Kids' Stories and My Two Oldest Homes**

Rudii POV~

One hour and I pulled up to the docks where I knew a boat would take my car across the ocean for a decent price. Michelle, who'd given me my flask, was married to the manager and he'd met me.

"Roger, long time no see," I hollered as I stepped into his office to see the tough man sitting at his desk going over shipments. He really was a tough guy-don't underestimate him. But he was also super smart, and did some crazy stuff with numbers.

"Rudii? It's been years, kiddo," he grinned, getting up and engulfing me into a bear hug. I squealed as he crushed me, but all in good fun. I could take worse. "And somehow, while I'm old and wrinkled, you don't look more than a teenager."

"Yeah and I'd love to stay and catch up, and see Michelle, but I'm in a rush. Big rush," I said quickly, bouncing on the balls of my feet. I gave him my best puppy dog look, which probably wasn't great but he sighed anyway.

"Alright, what ya need? And how are ya gonna pay for it? I can give you a discount, kid, but only so much," he looked guilty but resigned. I nodded, of course. I understand the value of money very, very well.

"I've got, uh," I pulled the pouch out of my backpack and flipped my fingers through the wad of cash. Damn, only about one thousand left. That sounds like a lot, but when you're buying your own gas, food, motel room, and occasionally clothing, it's very little. "Can I just give you $600?" I asked sheepishly. I'd have to get a job or see what I could lift later. I didn't know anyone where I was going, so I couldn't get their charity-good, I hate asking for it anyway.

"Sure thing. Where am I taking ya?" he nodded, crossing his arms for business.

"Me and my car," I grinned as his eyebrows rose. "I gotta get to, ideally, Russia. But you can drop us in Portugal if you like and I can drive the rest."

"Nah, actually, I'm already about to ship out to Russia, and there's extra room so I can squeeze ya. It's your lucky day, kid," he smiled. I beamed and hugged him.

"Thank you, thank you thank you!" I jumped up and down.

"Now let me see the car," he smirked. I walked out of his office and gestured to the red Jaguar, and laughed as his jaw dropped.

After a whole week of nothing but ocean and crappy preserved food, I and the Jaguar were finally in Russia. It felt incredible to be back at my very oldest home. It had changed so much, and yet was exactly the same. I was way up north in Russia, since the boat had gone over Norway and Sweden to get in. I loved the ocean, but it felt good to be back on dry, non-swaying land. I drove from the docks first into a little suburban area. Northern Russia isn't the most largely populated area ever, but it has kids. And these kids were some crazy believers. Most kids in Eastern Europe were, but I don't know why. I don't know a lot of details of world history-despite how long I've lived-so maybe it had to do with something. Or maybe because the area was fairly isolated and they needed to entertain themselves.

I parked down the street from a snow-covered park and waited. It was early in the morning, so I sat in the car and thought about what to do. Simple: I'd ask the kids about what they believed about the Guardians, and whatever bad things the Guardians may protect against. They might let something slip.

Finally, just after noon, a few kids started showing up and thankfully without parents around to stupidly think I was some pedophile. I climbed out and walked to the fence, leaning on it instead of coming in so that the kids wouldn't feel threatened. Stranger danger, and all that. A girl of about twelve with platinum blonde braids peeking out of her brown hat budged a boy next to her and pointed at me. The boy looked about the same age, with buzzed brown hair and a pale face. As he came closer, the girl only a step behind, I noticed he had dark brown eyes too.

"What are you doing?" he asked in Russian. The language sent a pang through me, I hadn't spoken it in a long time. I both missed it, and didn't want it. But he was young, he probably didn't know English, so I responded in kind, slipping easily into my first language.

"I was wondering what you could tell me about some very special people," I said, smiling kindly and dragging up what I remembered form kids over the years. He tilted his head and waited for me to continue. "They're called the Guardians." At that, he and the girl straightened and smiled.

"You believe in them too? But you're grown up," the girl piped up.

I nodded. "Trust me, I believe wholeheartedly in them" because it's all I have, I added mentally. "But I don't know much about them," I began, but the boy cut me off. Perfect.

"There's Santa Claus, the Sandman, the Tooth fairy, and the Easter Bunny. And they all guard us and make sure we have fun and are safe and happy," he boy eagerly explained.

"Some say there's a Jack Frost, too," the girl added uncertainly. I ignored that, sometimes there were variations depending on religion and word of mouth, but always the same basics. The Big Four, including him.

"And what are they guarding you from, do you know?" I asked gently. They frowned and thought. Then the girl spoke up.

"Bad things, like, like…like ghosts and monsters!" she jumped up and down in her fury.

"And nightmares," the boy added. "The Sandman makes good dreams, but there are nightmares too. It's like Sandman, but the opposite, I think."

Sandman…sand. But he seemed good, he wouldn't have black sand. Unless the nightmares were black sand, since the boy said Sandman makes good dreams.

"And do they ever affect adults at all?" I asked, but they quickly shook their heads.

Uh you're wrong, I thought, because black sand attacked a bunch of adults a few days ago. I kept that to myself. Instead I smiled, thanked them, and walked back to the car. They ran back to the playground. I sat in my car and tilted my head back, wondering what to do. Since I'd escaped I had encountered and fought that black sand before, but those times were few and far between. It had always been about to attack or wrap around a child, so I'd acted on instinct and taken a few slashes and kicks at it. But it had never been around adults. Did I count as an adult? I'm really not sure. I'm definitely older than those twelve-year-olds, but I'm immortal and frozen looking like a girl who looks just a little young of 18. Despite how I froze at 18. I blame my face, it's not narrow and sleek like Russian models, it's full. I do have the high cheekbones though. And those kids had said the Guardians-and the like-never affected adults, but that same black sand had attacked all those people in the bar. And they, even Ally, were definitely adults. This seemed important, and too big for me to handle. And I didn't want to get any mortals involved, they had proved they couldn't fight it.

I groaned and put my forehead against the steering wheel. I suddenly knew what to do. I don't know where the idea came from, but it was the one to follow. I am immortal, I have magic. But I don't know how to use it, and I'm not very strong with it anyway. Whatever this is, it's clearly not normal and it will probably continue. I had to do what every child in the world would do. To believe in, and to beg for help from, the Guardians. I had to go to the Guardians, and maybe finally say that phrase out loud. Or at least prove it right or wrong. That would be my second oldest home, if it were true, I remarked to myself. My stomach rolled with both excitement and nerves, and I barely lurched out of the car before I threw up the toast I'd snagged a few hours ago.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: No Cowboys, Just Mysterious Underage Girls**

Jack's POV~

I got the idea from Jamie when he said his parents were going to a bar so he was stuck home. Normally, I would've hung with him. Since he believed in me, I could interact with his environment, which meant play video games! But the way Jamie talked about bars made them interesting. He said that in movies, they were where tons of crazy stuff like cowboy bar fights and food fights and stuff happened. I'm the Guardian of Fun, and I want to see a cowboy bar fight!

"Oh, Bunny!" I called as I jumped into the warren. He would go with me, he seemed like the type to walk in with the hat low over his eyes and the cool guitar music. "I have something fun to do!"

"Oh God," I heard Bunny respond as he stepped out of one of the egg chambers. "What d'you want now, Frostbite?"

"We are going somewhere Jamie says is fun, but he can't go, so we are going for him," I smirked, holding out a snow globe. Bunny started to retort, but I grabbed his arm and whispered the location and broke the snow globe.

We stumbled as we were thrown onto a dirty concrete sidewalk in some alley. I jumped into the wind and rose up a few stories to see where we were. I saw a big city pretty close, so we were a bit on the outskirts, in the gritty parts. Sweet, this is where the cowboys would be!

"Alright, let's go find a bar!" I exclaimed as I landed next to Bunny. Bunny, to my surprise, laughed.

"You even know what a bar looks like?" he chortled. I frowned, I really didn't. But no way was I letting him know that, he'd make fun of me forever. And I do mean forever.

"Yes," I lied. "But I don't know around here. They look different in places," I tried to defend. I think he saw through it.

"Alright, I wouldn't mind a drink I suppose, been awhile," he shrugged and pointed across the street, "there's one, by the way." We walked in, my feet leaving frost patterns on the street. Thankfully it was February and I've been to this city so it does get cold.

We sat down at the bar, me careful not to touch it too much so I didn't leave random spots of ice in a very warm room. It was pretty boring actually: just seven other people sitting quietly. No one believed in us, so Bunny grabbed a beer from one of the patrons. The patron was too sleepy to notice anyway.

"Where are the cowboys and bar fights?" I whined. Bunny chuckled and took a drink, totally unfazed.

"Those don't usually happen nowadays, Frostbite. That was when the cowboys were around in America. Too modern now," he laughed at my frown.

"Let's just go then," I huffed, and was about to slide off the seat when a girl came in and sat down next to me. A young girl, who looked about my age—well, the age I look anyway. I doubt she's three hundred.

"What's she doing here? She can't possibly be old enough," Bunny mumbled. He grabbed my arm as I continued sliding. "We're staying. What's this little ankle-biter doing in a bar?"

I agreed. In the movies, only adults and men had been in the bars, no women or girls. But she looked totally comfortable, leaning on the bar top just like Bunny. We stayed still and waited for the blonde girl behind the bar to notice her. In the meantime, I studied her, I don't know, maybe if we looked longer her true age would show up. She had messy black hair that fell to her waist, and over her shoulder so we could only see her mouth.

"You old enough to be here?" the blonde girl finally stopped in front of her. I could feel Bunny lean forward in anticipation.

"Are you?" the girl countered, and I saw her lips lift in a smirk. Bunny leaned back a bit and huffed.

"She's not," he muttered. Really? I thought. She didn't say her age, we can't know that. The blonde sighed and looked at her, a little guiltily. The black-haired girl nodded and pulled out a little white card. The blonde barely glanced at it with light blue eyes before handing it back.

Bunny chuckled. "Atta girl, fake ID card. Says she's one age when she really isn't," Bunny explained. He seemed to be…enjoying this?

"Isn't that a bad thing? Aren't we supposed to stop kids from doing bad things?" I asked. She looked my age, and I was technically a kid, and Bunny had just said she wasn't supposed to be here. Bunny just shrugged.

"Wait, I wanna know more," he murmured, focusing on the two. I just shrugged, although I'd be lying if I said I wasn't intrigued too. Bunny probably wanted professional information and report back to North and all that. Personally, I just thought this girl was cool, sneaking into places and getting away with it.

"Just so I can't say I didn't," the blonde said as she took a couple steps back to the wall of bottles. "Whatcha want?" she called.

"Two things. First," The girl-who-is-bad pulled out a blood-red metal flask from her pocket and held it out, "fill this with a vodka tonic." The girl nodded and took it. "Then, get me a Black Russian." Bunny let out a low whistle at the order. My eyes widened at her tone, she had a Russian accent just as heavy as North's. She spoke English better, though.

The girl glanced at her over her shoulder with an eyebrow raised. "That's pretty strong, you sure you can handle it?"

"Yeah, can you?" Bunny asked aloud, but they couldn't hear him. "It's a really strong drink, that means there's lots of alcohol in it," he explained to me. I nodded.

The black-haired girl laughed. "I can handle it, I promise." She was handed back the flask and she tucked it into the pocket again.

"You Russian? I thought I heard an accent," the blonde asked as she poured a bunch of bottles. I know next to nothing about alcohol, other than the little bit Bunny or North sometimes let me sip. But that's wine and stuff because North handles Christmas, none of this vodka and other stuff.

"Hey, don't cheat me," the girl pointed at the drink. The blonde rolled her eyes and poured in more of the clear liquid—I'm assuming that was the vodka. "There we go. And yes, I am. That is a warning not to try to rob me of my vodka," the girl-who-is-bad smirked.

"If you've got an accent, that means you speak it naturally. So what are you doing over here?" she asked conversationally. Bunny perked again, we both wanted to know what she was doing.

"Grew up there. Then left home and been traveling around the world ever since." That sounded vague.

"That sounds so cool. I want to travel, but I don't have the money," she shrugged wistfully. Then snorted. "Plus, I don't even know where I'd go. Or who with. I'd hate to be alone. I'm a people person."

Oh I can tell, I thought. "Nah, I like being alone. No one but yourself to worry about, and you get to decide all the time," the black-haired girl added.

"I suppose. But I don't even speak the languages, so I'd be confused. You've at least got Russian and English."

"Actually, most people around the world know at least some English. It's become a big language these past few decades," the girl-who-is-bad corrected. Ok, I need something else to call her. I didn't know many names…just Jamie but that's a boy, and Toothiana…there. Her name is Ana.

"You talk like you've watched it change," the blonde teased. I chuckled, Ana did sound older than she looked.

"There, she sounds older," I turned to Bunny, as if that might be it. "Maybe she just looks really young?"

"No, no that was a fake ID. Pick up on the hints, Frostbite," he smirked. He enjoyed knowing more than me. I wanted to freeze his annoying fluffy butt to the chair so badly.

"Watch movies, then you can see it too," Ana excused.

"Alright, time to go. We aren't gonna learn anymore," Bunny sighed and stood. I handed him a snow globe and sighed too. I'd have to break it to Jamie that there were no cowboys or bar fights. The blonde handed Ana the drink and held out her hand.

"I'm Ally, by the way," she smiled. Ana returned it and opened her mouth, but at that moment Bunny grabbed me and broke a snow globe. I didn't hear what Ana said because of the rush of the portal, and then I blinked and was back in North's workshop.

"So now what?" I asked. I really was completely out of my league here.

"Just…forget it," Bunny sighed.

"What?" Aren't Guardians supposed to do something when they see something wrong?

"You can't always save everyone, Jack. And some people don't want to be. That girl was comfortable there, and she didn't see us. And she's not technically a kid, but she's not an adult either. There's nothing we can, or should, do," Bunny shrugged, looking tired.

"So what? I was comfortable alone, you guys still shoved me in a sack and tossed me through a magic portal. And she's a kid, North said the Big Four doesn't just leave a kid," I said incredulously. The fight they all put up against Pitch, and yet here was Bunny—the Easter Bunny—just ignoring one.

"Maybe you didn't sense it then," he murmured quietly. He looked me in the eye, voice gravelly. "My center is hope. It's what I guard in children, and bring to the world. That girl had none." He tapped his foot twice and disappeared down his hole, leaving me open-mouthed.

After a minute, I walked away and left the entire workshop. I jumped into the wind and threw snow everywhere and flew in no direction, not paying attention. I just tried to clear my head and forget it, like Bunny said to. We argue a lot, but he's way older than me and a pretty smart guy. He knows the Guardians business, so I take his instructions. But a girl—around my age it seemed—having no hope at all? I always had hope, even during my first 300 years alone, somewhere deep down.


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6: I'm A Good Driver**

Rudii's POV~

I don't actually know where to go from here. I sat in the car after finding a public bathroom to clean up. Well, they were the Guardians. Magic. I had magic. Maybe I just have to focus, meditate and center myself and all that Zen stuff. I closed my eyes and leaned my back against the seat, taking deep breaths and trying to clear my mind.

"Relax, relax," I chanted silently to myself. Nothing. And I'm really not famous for my patience. I opened my eyes and went to groan in exasperation, when it died in my throat. The street in front of me was glowing. In the middle of the day, just this bright white light. It almost hurt.

I looked in the rearview window, but the street behind me was normal gray pavement. So were all the sidewalks and buildings around me. The street in front stayed glowing. I can't tell you why I did what I did next, but I turned on the Jaguar and started onto the glowing road. There was this tugging inside me, like a gut feeling I guess, that told me. I had no other way to the Guardians, or anywhere really. So I'll take what I can get, even if it's not what I would've come up with.

I don't know how I am so calm and clear right now. I really don't care. I just want to get there, I have years of questions to be answered. And the best part, I grinned humorlessly as I realized, even if it was nothing but an old trick of the light or led me to the end of the world, they would be answered.

I drove for two days. I was on the European side of Russia, and ended up more to the Asia side. I stopped for about seven hours total to take naps or eat what little food I could find-and pay for. I stuck to the coastline and waited for anything to stand out, but this far North everything is white.

When a sign finally came, I missed it. I was going so fast and had just zoned out from the straight, dull environment, that it took me a minute for my brain to catch up to my eyes. When it did, I slammed the brakes so hard the car skidded and almost spun. Damn, that was not good for the tires or the brakes, I grit my teeth. At least I got to drive in reverse for two miles, that was actually really fun.

I saw a broken, paint-peeled wooden sign.

Легенда

It was Russian, and it meant 'Legend'.

I turned onto the illuminated plateau, but let the car slide to a stop soon after. I just sat in…numbness. There was so much emotion, I've been dulling and ignoring my emotions for the better part of 2,000 years. They all just flooded in, and I couldn't do anything except be pulled under. Fear, that I would be wrong and there would be nothing and that last, weak little fragment of my past would be gone and I'd be truly alone. Excitement, that they-that he-would really be there and I could get my memories back and not be alone. Happiness, that I'd even found this place. Anger, that it had taken me this long and that I even had to do this and to live like this in the first place. But still so much fear.

And then I came back. I have been called sassy, fearless, stupid, unusual, worthless, unnerving, haunted, to name a few. I have also been called strong. And I am, I reminded myself. I've been through hell, 1,500 years of it in fact. I've survived on my own and rebuilt myself. I can do this. Whatever I find there, I can handle it. Maybe that phrase is right, or maybe it isn't. But I know I came from somewhere. Even dreams start from real places.

I steel myself on these beliefs-unproved, and probably forever unproved-and gun it down the plateau.

And slam the brakes. Again. But this time, I didn't have to come to a full stop because I only meant to slow down. The plateau was really short. I mean about only four miles long. It had looked way long when I started, but now it apparently wasn't a plateau, but a…bridge? I was now speeding at about 60 on a vast, flat land of just snow and trees. It was beautiful, and it felt familiar. Maybe I'd painted it before-I never could understand what those were about. Then again, I've crossed the world several times by now, so such a landscape could be anywhere.

Until I saw the building. I can't even describe it, it was like the Kremlin but…better. And bigger. And it was magic, it had that same bright shimmer that just made it look alive.

The North Pole. It had to be. Those kids…they had to be right. I shoved another wave of emotion down and focused on the car. My Jaguar, my beautiful red Jaguar. I felt the speed, the car cutting through the air, the wheels grazing the snow, the engine thrumming under me, all the gears and pipes and metal sliding perfectly.

And stop before I sent the boy flying.

I edged the brakes, slowly since I had time, and came to a smooth and only slightly screeching stop. What can I say? It's a sports car. It just isn't cool without a screeching stop. It shows how fast I was going and how much control I have. I climbed out and stepped in front of it so I was just two feet away from the boy. I was not going to cower or keep distance. I really wasn't scared of a rather skinny boy who looked around my age, actually, now that I was closer.

His blue eyes were wide and his mouth was gaping. I cocked an eyebrow and leaned on my hip, waiting. I waited three long seconds.

"Yeah, it's fast. Yeah, I'm good with it. Get it together," I snapped, a bit harshly. I guess that emotion wasn't as far from the surface as I thought.

He shook his head, white-yes, pure white-hair flowing with the movement, and squeezed his eyes shut. He opened them again and this time looked a bit more composed.

"H-how did you…you get…g-get…here?" he asked, stunned.

"I'm a good driver," I smirked. He meant how was I, a seemingly mortal and unexceptional girl, find the North Pole. I've decided it is the North Pole, because of the magic all over it. And the boy with white hair-that's another hint by itself-being so shocked.

"No, no, no," he shook his head, smirking. I crossed my arms and tilted my head, waiting for him to finish implying that I am somehow stupid. "You can't just drive up, this place is super protected, there's," he stopped, but I knew he was about to say magic. "There's, uh, protection all over the place." He still thought he could hide it at this point. Cute.

I smirked and cupped my palms in front of me, then focused my sight on them and summoned some of the magic in me. I've done this a couple times before. I imagined fire, the heat being sucked up from my toes and into my legs and across my stomach and chest and down my arms into my hands. He gasped as little red, blue, and purple sparks shot around in my hands, which were covered in a faint golden glow. Smirking in his face, I edited my previous statement. "I'm a really good driver."

And all this delay was letting the anxiety and fear creep back to my mind. I hastily put the magic away and shoved the warm feeling through my veins down into the black pit in my mind.

"Are you gonna let me in, or what?" I asked impatiently. He grimaced, sighed, and turned. He gestured with his staff for me to follow through the huge intricately carved doors


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7: Great First Impressions**

Rudii's POV~

The boy led me inside, grumbling to himself and glancing back at me every few steps. I would've been annoyed and thrown out some smartass comeback if I wasn't so focused on keeping my emotions in control. This would probably not be a good place for them to come out, or time. It was getting harder to breathe, and I felt like something was pushing at my chest and my mind.

A flash of green, blue, and purple flew into the hallway before we could get into the larger room ahead. It was a girl. Flying. On wings. I'm really not surprised. However, her suddenly shooting forward and sticking her fingers in my mouth and yanking it open—yeah, I was caught off-guard by that one.

"Wow, you brush amazingly!" she squealed. "You could spend a little more time flossing, but they're so shiny anyway, they're perfect!"

"Whaw tha faw," I tried, less angrily than I meant.

"Tooth, seriously?" the boy yelped, exasperated. The girl stiffened, and suddenly backed away from me, violet eyes wide and mouth hanging open.

My next surprise—damn, I really have got to give this girl some credit—was her feathers covering her body and showing off every color in the rainbow. I momentarily forgot the emotions and the pushing feeling, and the mouth grabbing, overwhelmed with awe. I should've been more confused, but this was the first time this had ever happened.

"Jack!" she shrieked, "what did you," I accidentally cut her off.

"I know you," I murmured my thought process aloud, not hearing their twin "what"s as I thought of the mural I'd done on the back fence of a park in some suburb almost 300 years ago. Those vibrant, rainbow feathers; and in the middle, two bright violet eyes surrounded by long, violet eyelashes that looked like elongated flower petals. "I drew you…those colors, those feathers, your eyes, I painted them…"

"That was you?" she exclaimed, her anger evaporating and being replaced with an eccentric mixture of surprise and happiness. "We went crazy when we saw that! Very few know what I look like—since I only come at night and all—and those people are not street artists!" she talked at a mile a second this chick. Then her expression scrunched into one of confusion. "Where did you see me?"

"I haven't…I don't…it just sort of came…I didn't draw you. Just the feathers, and the eyes," I shrugged. I never knew how I came up with any of my paintings, and I never recognized them. They just appeared in my head or on the surface I'd painted. Really, most of the time I didn't even know what it was until I'd finished.

"Right, okay, we really need to get you to North," the boy tried to begin. And struck another part of my mind.

"Who?" I demanded, voice as tight as my muscles were.

"Uh…North. He's kinda the head guy," the boy sighed. "Alright, I give up. You've figured out the place is magic. You have magic. You got here. You panted the Tooth Fairy,"

"The who?" I cut him off again. I felt a little bad this time, it was becoming a bit of a habit.

"The Tooth fairy," he said flatly. I raised an eyebrow, but the flying girl nodded. Well, the white-haired boy had a point. There was magic here, I had my own, I certainly wasn't normal, so of course the Tooth fairy exists. Again, no surprise. Also, her obsession with my teeth probably should've given it away.

"Anyway," the boy began again, his voice harder as if daring me to interrupt him yet again. "We should go see North, he'll help you get back home or whatever you're here for." He caught my blank expression and began to explain, as if to a child, as he slowly stepped down the hall. "You know, North. St. Nick. Santa Claus," he trailed.

The pushing suddenly shot back, so hard I began to fall. I spun myself to the side and managed to keep myself upright, bracing my forearms against the wall. I couldn't breathe, the weight was airtight. And my head, Gods, my head. It was pounding against my skull, making me shut my eyes against it.

I heard the boy gasp and the girl's sweet, gentle voice managed to probe through the pain. "Um, is everything alright?"

I took deep breaths and forced myself to stand up straight and open my eyes. "Yes, yes, I…" I could barely focus on them or the words, but I think I said I was fine. I could tell they didn't buy it.

"Why are you here, anyway?" the Tooth Fairy asked, voice staying low and gentle.

"I…there's…he's…I need to…I'm…" I tried, I wanted to tell them about the adults and the black sand. But something else was pushing its way out, suffocating and torturing me until I released it. This has never happened before, even my magic…episodes…feel differently than this. Those are blinding, sharp, and far worse pain. This had been building, thick and heavy.

"What's the most important thing right now?" the fairy tried again, leaning towards me.

"Ya doch' Nikolaya Sankt Severa," I gasped, and immediately felt the pain disappear. I felt a calm settle over me, and I struggled not to lie down from it. I'd said it…I'd finally, after so impossibly long, I'd said it. Winning the battle to not lie down, I looked up at the boy and the fairy and their expressions of confusion and shock. Oh, that might've not been a good thing to say. Even if it felt like it was.

"What?" the boy asked, eyebrow raised. I was too much in shock to even throw him an 'are you stupid?' look. That damn phrase. 2,000 years I'd never said it out loud, and I finally had. I don't know why I said it now, in this crazy yet familiar place, in front of these two random beings-one of whom was kind of getting annoying, whereas the other was impossibly kind. The words hung in the air around me, old and powerful.

I think the boy said something else, because the Tooth Fairy slapped the back of the boy's head.


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8: The Eight Words**

Jack's POV~

I was about to snap my fingers in front of the girl's face or something. She'd just blanked, zoned out. I can guess that whatever she said was important, at least to her, and I'm pretty sure she mentioned North or at least someone he'd know (Nikolaya, Nicholas, I don't know Russian but I've been around North long enough). I went to ask her again, I'm really not know for my patience, when Tooth slapped the back of my head. Tooth. Hit me. Tooth hit me. I looked at her, rubbing my now stinging head, my mouth hanging open.

"Jack, this is obviously important, don't make it hard," she hissed. Man, since when did she get so edgy?! She turned back to the girl and put a hand on her shoulder, smiling encouragingly. I stayed quiet and hung behind Tooth, she had that whole comforting thing down way better than I did. "Sweetie." Sweetie?! Really? No. Smartass. Impressive smartass with the car and magic thing, but still smartass. "You spoke another language. Do you think you could say that in English?"

"Russian," the girl said robotically. That was the language. Huh…we really should just go to North, he could understand her and I could go back to making a snow day in New Jersey, America. "It's eight words in English," she breathed. "I…I said…" she was looking down, her black hair a curtain around her face. That looked a bit familiar…

Tooth gently nudged her to look up and she did, right at us, but her eyes looked far away. There was something in them, and it made me nervous. Even sweet Tooth floated away a bit, although that could've been taken as giving her space, too.

"I am the daughter of Nicholas St. North," she breathed, then closed her eyes and sighed, as if a weight had been lifted.

"Oh…" Tooth gasped. I just stared, not knowing how to process this. I didn't buy it. I don't think Father Christmas is an actual father. Okay, that sounds less stupid in my head. "We really should take you to him, then."

I turned and heard her footsteps and Tooth's flutters behind me as I led them to North's office, Maine completely forgotten. This was way more important, the kids could wait until tomorrow. Tomorrow was Friday anyway, so it would be like a three-day weekend. I'm good at my job even when I don't attend to it. I was way too curious to pass this up.

Tooth kept trying to talk to her but she was just staring at the ground, I could practically see her mind sprinting. What the heck though? North would sort her out. Get her back to wherever she came from, Sandy could knock her out, and wipe her memory.

Man, I'm not usually this point-blank with people. I love people-well, kids. She looks around my age so I'll count her with the kids. Maybe it's because she got here herself and that makes me nervous-and a bit put out. That's never happened. And I couldn't get in myself-the Yetis kept me out. When I did get in here, it was by being shoved into a sack. And she just drove up, in a car, and walked in. With me, but the Yetis were still way too cool with her. In fact, as I thought back, they'd kind of just stared. Even Yetis could be shocked.

Maybe it's because of how quickly she changed, just spun on a dime. She was so cool and confident and sassy outside, I'd actually kind of liked it. Hey, I give anyone points who can back talk, and end up in a supposed-to-be-legendary place and just walk in. and handle that kind of car…I know from Jamie some vague information about cars, enough to know that that one is super cool, and super fast.

On the off chance she actually is related to North, why wouldn't he ever say anything? Or let us ever see her? And how did she just get in anyway? It made me wonder about their history. I'd been told some basics, but always written it off as they didn't have time-all hard work and deadlines, they were. What else have the Guardians still not told me?


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9: I Swear, I Don't Remember**

Rudii's POV~

The boy and fairy led me down the hall, the boy silent and hunched but the fairy talking to me. I know she was, and I tried to acknowledge her but I was too lost in my own thoughts and trying to control my emotions again. At least the pain and pressure was gone. But the fear, excitement, confusion, was all still there. Then the boy yanked me out of my concentration, but, amazingly, the emotion and magic didn't go everywhere.

"Here's a quick tour on the way," he spun on his foot, gesturing widely. Ok, what's with his sudden change in mood? Whatever, a tour does sound good. Now that I'm here and that phrase is out, I'm welcoming anything to procrastinate any actual answers.

"This is the Globe Room, it's also kind of the," he began, and my words slipped out before I could think them through—or let him finish, again.

"Center of the place," I muttered. He and the Tooth fairy looked at me with wide eyes. "Have you been here before?" she asked. I shook my head, my own eyes widening. "Have you heard of this, or read it, or anything?" Again, I shook my head. She pointed to the giant globe in the center of the room, and I felt a tiny pang of both enjoyment and sadness to see it was in Russian. "What do those lights represent, do you know?" she asked, studying me. I shook my head.

"Each light represents," the boy began, again.

"A child," again, I interrupted. He huffed, looking really put out. "Sorry," I groaned, confused myself.

"Maybe it's just when I say it," he said, a bit sarcastically. The Tooth Fairy didn't pick up on it.

"Let me try," she turned to me and pointed to one of the big furry…things I'd seen on the way in. "These are the Yetis, they," she began slowly.

"Make toys," I finished automatically, the words not even forming in my mind before they came out. "I swear I don't…I've only heard the name, North Pole, I swear I don't know," I moaned quietly. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to control the emotions and think of how I can possibly say this stuff and be accurate.

The boy nudged the fairy and arched his eyebrow. She sighed and looked at me nervously. Then she floated towards me and smiled weakly. "We're just going to take you to North now," she said, and I got the rest. I'm very unusual and it's making them nervous. I snorted internally. Yeah, how do you think I'm doing.

The two led me into a large, wooden, open elevator. I choked on the air that left my lungs as we climbed out into utter chaos. But it was loud, beautiful, perfect chaos. Toys and Yetis everywhere, the toys flying and whirring and lighting up everywhere. They were being made, painted, thrown, carried, tested, flown, into every direction. I ducked under a model of an airplane, its propeller buzzing and lights flashing. The boy's hand wrapped around my arm firmly and pulled me through. His fingers were long and slim, and pale, and the grip was just a little on the hard side. I hate people touching me, especially like this, and especially with fingers that look so similar….It made me nervous but I shoved it down, tugging my hand out of his grasp. He didn't even look back at me.

Finally, the fairy stopped outside a wooden door with beautiful golden carvings along the frame. She said something to the boy and he ushered me inside; she flew off somewhere in the workshop.

My back was to the rest of the room, which was quiet and cozy-feeling, as I took in just the door and wall next to it. The door had beautiful carvings and symbols on it in gold and fogged glass. There were shelves full of knick knacks and ice carvings. The carvings were incredible, tiny, detailed sculptures of trains, people, animals, houses, and toys.

"North, this girl drove here. In a car," the boy's voice sounded nervous but firm. Straight to the point then, I sighed internally. "And she has magic, and…" I tuned out while he explained the past hour or so to a man in the room. I could feel his presence, and hear his quiet hums and gasps as he listened to the boy, but I couldn't make myself look at either of them. I stayed with my back to the corner where I heard the voices. I've been wishing for answers for years, but wishing is so different than actually finding a way to. And actually getting near. They were too close, way too close. But I wanted them so badly.

Shoving the emotions down, I turned so my side was to them, but they were still talking. With my head tilted down, my hair fell into my face so I could see them but they couldn't see my face. I studied the boy a bit more first. His messy white hair, tall but skinny figure clad in tight brown…leggings?... and blue sweatshirt covered in frost patterns. The tall, wooden staff with a curved end that had frost along the middle, his bare feet, his light blue eyes, dark eyebrows, slightly pointed chin, straight nose, big ears. I felt a giggle rise in my chest at those, but it died in my throat when I looked at the man he was talking to.

First, he was huge. Broad, square shoulders and body, towering over the white-haired boy, and was dressed in a loose dark red shirt and pants. His white hair had a few streaks of gray and black as it fell down his scalp to his shoulders, and his beard down to his belt. His hooked nose nearly disappeared in it, and his dark eyebrows were furrowed over blue eyes. As if that didn't give it away, his voice did: he was Russian. My English is better, but otherwise his accent sounded exactly like mine. I tried to shove that away, lots of people were from Russia.

They stopped talking, the boy looking confused but intent, and the man looking…scared. Yeah, me too, buddy. The white-haired boy turned to me first, stepping over to me and smiling shyly, offering his hand. Well, that was unexpected. Now he's all warm and fluffy. Something the man said or did must have changed his mind, and that scared me more. I didn't take his hand at first, my emotions are just barely under control and I don't need to upset anything more. But as the man turned and I felt the emotion probe at my chest, I whipped my hand out and grabbed the boy's fingers just as he'd begun to put his hand down. They were chilly, despite the warm place, but they were solid. I was shocked at myself to actually find it comforting.

The man let out a heavy breath and looked fully at me, as I tilted my head up. We stared at each other. I could feel how wide my eyes were and how tense my body was from the nervousness and anticipation and excitement, I was probably crushing the poor boy's fingers. He didn't show any signs of pain. The man's bright blue eyes were wide, his face slack. A minute later, they began to fill with tears and his jaw, under that great beard, tensed.

"You," he began, but trailed.

"Nicholas St. North?" It came out a question, but the words had slipped without my thought and I was sure of them. He nodded. "I'm your daughter, I think," I tried, my voice shaking with the barely-controlled emotion. There was a small wind in the room and the knick knacks were rattling. "Shit, I'm sorry," I gasped, looking around, trying desperately to calm down.

He stepped towards me and put his big hands on my shoulders, but the touch felt warm and soft and I felt my body relax. I didn't let go of the boy's hand, but I did tilt my head up to keep looking the man in the face. He sucked in his breath.

"You're alive," he breathed, and I could tell he didn't quite believe he was saying them. I knew exactly what he meant.

"I don't believe it either, most of the time," I smiled weakly. Then I realized he had spoken Russian, old Russian, and I had responded in kind. And damn, did it feel incredible. Maybe it was the way he looked at me, maybe it was how his embrace felt, or hell maybe it my hand holding the boy's fingers, but something made me keep talking. "I got out, after 1,500 years. I had this phrase, these eight words, in my head. I just followed them, I didn't know…I just…I had nothing else…" my voice grew desperate. I still didn't have the answers explicitly, and I was starting to hope. It was terrifying.

"You think you're my daughter?" he asked, his voice wavering, as quiet and broken as mine.

"I…I don't remember…before…just being taken, and tricked and…and…" I couldn't say it anymore. He nodded, a couple tears spilling over into his beard, but his smile was genuine. "It's okay," he gasped. The poor white-haired boy must not even understand us. Yes, I remembered his presence the entire time, because he kept squeezing my hand or rubbing his thumb along mine. It was reassuring. "I'm just happy you're back, and you're safe. And yes, you're mine," he finished. He held his arms out, asking me. I finally let the tears flow and hugged him. And I enjoyed drowning in the warm clothing and smell of mint and cookies.


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10: A New Beginning Without An Old Past**

Rudii's POV~

We spent probably hours in the office, the man-North-just kept touching me, patting my head or hugging me or putting his hands or my shoulders, as if reassuring himself that I was really here. I didn't mind, it felt nice. I don't remember what kind of father he was, but he says he is and I've believed that for 1,500 years of hell, and then another less-hellish 500 years after that, and I'll believe it now.

The boy just stood there the whole time, letting me hold his hand, keeping his own grip light in case I didn't want it anymore. He will never know how good that felt, for someone to support and encourage me, and someone to touch me without making me panic or feel trapped. He didn't say anything, just let North and I try to be together. I wouldn't let him ask about what had happened, I just told him how I got to the North Pole. No more. I can't say it out loud, it's all already terrifying as a memory. North was sad and hurt and confused, I could tell, but he didn't push it. Or urge me to remember. He just let me guide the conversation, say what I wanted to say and nothing more.

By the time the boy led me out, the stars were high and bright in the windows, signaling it was past midnight. I still hadn't let go of his hand, and he kept glancing back at me every few steps up the three flights of stairs and down the dark brown hallway. He stopped at the flight.

"North said to ask if you want your old room or a new one," he said quietly, looking at me nervously. I bit my lip and looked down, letting my hair hide my face and my body tensed and I shoved down another wave of emotion. Gods, it is truly amazing how I hadn't burned down the whole workshop yet. My old room might help my memory, but what if those memories weren't good? Or what if I didn't like it, and I had to explain that to North? I knew one thing for sure: I could not be the same person I was before, I've been through too much. I rarely feel emotion, I spend my time stealing and fighting and surviving, I drink—but I am proud of myself for not doing that since I arrived—and am constantly running away from him, or to the man who is my father, I'm not sure now.

"Hey, I want to tell you something. I think it might help," the boy smiled softly and sat down against the wall, tugging me lightly down next to him. He sat with his legs stretched out in front of him and his staff on top, while I curled my legs closely to me and wrapped one arm around them, the other hand still holding his. "When I became me," he gestured at himself, "I thought this was me. Always. I didn't remember a birth, or family, or growing up. I just was," he squeezed my hand when I opened my mouth. I know I had a life before, I just don't remember what it was. But I closed it and let him continue. "I'll spare you the details, because I'm not proud of them and they aren't pretty," he grimaced, "but I got my memories back and realized who I'd been before. But I realized something," he continued, tilting his head to look into my face. I looked at him, but studied his hair, too nervous to meet his eyes. "As much as the past is important, it's not the most important thing to us. I had created a new life, a new beginning, that I didn't even realize how much I loved until I almost lost it. You can have that now—a new beginning, a new life. I know whatever happened to you can't be undone, and I know it's hard to not remember, I know more than anyone you'll ever meet," he nodded, sighing. Then he smiled again. "But trust time. Your memories will come back on their own. Don't do what I did: throw away everything you value because you think something else is more important."

I looked into his eyes this time, and saw honesty shining in them. Whatever the hell North said to him, it really made him do a one-eighty. "Why are you being so nice now?" I asked softly.

He smiled sheepishly and scrubbed his hair. "I didn't realize who you were—I just thought you were some reckless human or…I thought you might've been working for someone…someone who's gone now," he ended guiltily.

"Someone?" I prompted.

He sighed. "Someone who almost killed all of us, and almost ruined the world. Someone who I gave everything to, for my memories, and I almost let him destroy everything I now value," he looked down, his face twisted with guilt. I squeezed his hand this time, feeling sad.

"I get so selfish," he mumbled, but I don't think I was actually meant to hear it. But still, I felt compelled to respond, if only because I should probably try to make someone here trust and like me.

"I've heard your story," I started, testing the words before they came out. "You're the newest Guardian, weren't really on the radar for a while." His eyes flickered to me and he nodded in affirmation.

"You were on your own for a while," I shrug, the words suddenly coming much easier after that. "You always had to take care of yourself. For a while, there wasn't anyone else to think of."

His head turned now, looking fully at me. I smiled, though it probably looked weak. I decided to finish the little heart-to-heart, because although it was nice talking to him, I hadn't really opened up to anyone—even as vaguely as this—in a very long time. "You're not selfish, you just have had a different lifestyle. It takes time to learn a new one."

He smiled, a tiny one but it was incredibly warm. Ha, a warm smile from the ice boy. "It does take time to learn a new life," he said back to me. I nodded.

"I think I'd like a new room," I finished, my smile a bit stronger. His was too as he led me down the hall. I wanted to try his advice; I wanted to try to have a new beginning, to rebuild myself for real this time, not just band-aid myself for the time being.


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11: I'm Not Good with Knives or Nicknames or Names**

Jack's POV~

I don't know why I told Ana that story. I hate any remembrance of it, of my stupidity and selfishness. But at least it seemed to help her. I also didn't miss the tone in her voice when she asked why I was suddenly nice to her, and I deserved it. I had been rather rude at first. I guess realizing she had such a terrible past-even though I didn't know what it was-made me feel guilty for accusing her on the spot. I should know better than to judge, and to cast people out. And, of course, she's North's daughter, so she can't be evil. That also means she'll be living at the Pole, so I should try to make amends.

That seemed to work, and I felt both guilty and happy after our conversation on the landing. Ana was surprisingly understanding, she didn't question for details or accuse me of my mistakes when I told her what happened. I felt guilty because she was so accepting of me and I hadn't been to her. Yet happy because her past seemed similar to mine-at least on that part, and that she had actually taken my advice. I had actually given decent, thought-out advice! I gathered from her and North's interaction that whatever she's been through, it was hell.

I stepped into her room with her, partially to show her and partially because she hadn't let go of my hand. It didn't feel weird after so long, or painful-she has a grip!-but actually kind of comfortable. Ana's new room was bare, but inviting. The walls and comforter were a dark red that almost matched her jacket, the floor and furniture dark wood, and the pillows and curtains a deep cream. I'd still take some whites and light blues over it any day, but I had to admit that for someone who isn't the spirit of winter, it's really nice. It had a closet, desk, all the basic furniture. And an attached bathroom. Girls.

"There's some clothes already in the closet, North keeps stuff for anyone who comes in a basement and he had some taken up here for you. But you can also get some stuff made specially by the Yetis, or try yourself, up to you," I shrugged, not really knowing what she'd want. I wear my pants and hoodie, all day every day. No need for so many different clothes when mine rarely get dirty, and are super comfortable all the time. Girls like to change their clothes apparently, Tooth usually doesn't but I think that's due to the feathers. She just nodded, and smiled shyly.

"Thanks," Ana sighed as she tossed her backpack onto the ground and started digging through it. I don't know if I'm supposed to leave, but I wanted to see what she carried. She'd told North she'd been all over the world multiple times, and seemed to just carry her stuff on her back. I have to admit, that's impressive. She pulled out one change of clothes but it was all black and dark colors too, an iPod like the one Jamie had, a hairbrush, toothbrush, and water bottle. I could see other stuff inside but she didn't take them out. Then she pulled out the last item.

"Whoa!" I yelled and jumped backwards, landing crouched on top of her dresser. She had pulled out a switchblade, the handle (and thus, blade) the length from the tip of my middle finger to my wrist. Her head shot up, but she smirked when she realized. What? It's a knife. Why does Ana just have a knife in her backpack?!

"Chill, it's just a switchblade," she said. "You think after 500 years of living on the run, I wouldn't have run into trouble? This is self-defense, I'm not some psycho," she explained, rolling her eyes.

Holy snow, 500 years?! The air left my lungs. I'd thought 300 alone was bad, but at least I had been free and playing. She'd been running and fighting, just surviving was what it sounded like when she'd told North. "Okay," I sighed, jumping down. "Sorry," I muttered. Way to be tough and impressive, screaming and jumping at something a girl didn't even flinch at. So cool, Jack, so cool.

"I keep a full Swiss Army one in my coat pocket," she said, pulling it out. This one was thicker, and she flicked a bunch of stuff out like a corkscrew, screwdriver, several blades, and some other stuff. I'm pretty sure Jamie has one of those, or at least would be able to tell me more so I don't keep looking like an idiot. I nodded. "And another switch in my boot," she continued, unlacing her boots and pulling a smaller knife out of the right one.

"Oh," was all I could say. Jeez, 500 years. And she carried three—more if you counted each one on the Swiss things—knives with her. What had this girl been through?

I think she saw it on my face because she looked down, and quietly said, "I'm going to go to sleep. Night, uh," she looked back up at me. Oh yeah, we'd never been introduced.

"I'm Jack Frost," I said, grinning and taking a bow. I jumped across the room to her window and tapped it with my pinky finger, making my beautiful frost patterns cover it. She came over and gasped, giving the biggest smile I'd seen on her. And it was a real one, too.

"I'm Rudii." Better than Ana, for sure. She turned to me, the smile still there, but slowly fading. I wanted it to stay, but covering her room in frost probably wouldn't help her sleep, so I bit back the disappointment. I'm the Guardian of Fun, I like smiles, what can I say.

"Russian?" I guessed. She hummed a laugh and nodded.

"Guess what it means," she smirked. "Considering my," she took a deep breath, her smile fading only a little, "background."

I put a hand to my chin, squinting my eyes to put on a thinking-hard face. It made her chuckle. "Reindeer?" she shook her head, grinning. "Present?" she kept shaking her head, the smile growing again. "Tree?" Still shaking. "Ornament?" Still smiling. "Sleigh?" Still growing. "Cookie?" This time she laughed outright.

"He does like those, huh?" she mused. "He must've had four plates brought in while we were talking," her smile faded a bit but didn't disappear.

"I give up," I sighed, mocking sadness. She laughed once.

"Red," she said, and I banged my forehead against the window.

"That's so obvious," I grunted, but grinned when I heard her chuckle again. It really was: North wears all red, his sleigh is red, his holiday's color is red, she had a red car. And her name even starts with an 'R'. I finally straightened, sighed mock-sadly, and sauntered to the door.

"Night, Frost," she called, leaning against the doorframe as I headed down the hall. I turned, smirking questioningly at the name, but found I didn't mind.

"Night," I stopped walking, trying to think of a name. "I don't have a name for you," I finally admitted, a bit put-out. She grinned.

"Just yell it when you think of it," she nodded, then closed the door. I nodded, even though I don't think she saw it.

"Night Rudii," I said, not sure if she even heard, but it's the thought that counts, right?

I walked down to North's office, thinking of Rudii on the way. I didn't even know a quarter of it, but it was bad, her past. I know this. But she's my friend's—ha, he's practically my stepfather, but I, the eternal fun-loving teen, will never admit to that—daughter. He won't be happy unless he knows she is, or at least can be. She's immortal, she's living at the Pole, she's one of us. I can't help but want people to have fun like I do, and she definitely deserves it. And she proved she can, with enough of a push. Or shove, I smirked.

I know it's hard for her, because I know she didn't really remember him so she didn't fully accept him as her father, but I was still happy to see that her happy mood didn't completely disappear at the mention of him. That was progress. Fast progress. She was way stronger than I think she even gave herself credit for being. I had a feeling that, memories or not, she, and North, would be alright.


End file.
